Category Archives: Edinburgh

Some of the factors are just modern life, others are personal circumstances and that last group is the one I’m constantly working on – the choices.

As much as I try to simplify, plan ahead and ask for help – I accept that stress is a big part of my life so I’ve developed some strategies for dealing with it. Here are eight.

1 The gym

Keeping your patience, holding your temper and remaining calm take incredible willpower and involve squashing your inner rage. With me, the result is a lot of pent up energy. On Sunday I was on the treadmill at 8.45am. I don’t say this to impress you – I was up at 5 and I needed to GET OUT THE HOUSE before I exploded. A flat out run and a one-on-one with the punchbag sorted me right out. Plus I wore my new leggings.

2 Earplugs

No really. Rod came back from a “work trip” to the race track with a cute wee keyring tube containing earplugs. One particularly screamy morning I reached for it and was astonished how quickly my blood pressure dipped. It just takes the edge off.

3 Crafting

OK, I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this, but I read a lot about art therapy for an article once and it fucking works. I used to mindlessly colour in Johanna Basford’s creations – a few weeks back I started making greetings cards with the kids’ abandoned art supplies. It’s a moment of calm, the use of a different part of my brain and the pride of creating something pretty in the general chaos – not to mention the money saved.

4 Wine, beer and rum

Occasionally it crosses my mind that I may be overindulging, but I can go days without it so I don’t think I’m an alcoholic…. A wee beer while I make dinner, or my husband appearing with a dewy Cuba Libre when he finally gets the kids to sleep are just magic. I’ve also started popping round to fellow harrassed mums’ houses with a bottle (or demanding one) in the evenings and it’s very pleasant indeed.

5 Netflix and chill

There’s something nice about eschewing the TV schedule and suiting yourself….and bloody binging on three episodes of Orange is the New Black (where life is infinitely worse) should the mood take you.

6 Disney Emoji Blitz

This wee app has honestly saved my sanity more times than I care to mention. It’s a bit like Candy Crush but with Disney characters – and you get extra emojis with every level. It’s probably in that crafting cringe category, but it zones me out and my texts are a bit more colourful.

7 Whatsapp

My best girls are all over the world and yet they’re right there in my pocket, especially when I’m losing my shit. From Chicago, Hong Kong, Singapore, London, Fife and Dunblane, they’re ready and waiting to support me, reassure me and tell me to wind that neck right in.

8 My imaginary golden network

OK, now you’re really going to think I’m nuts. When I’m trapped in the toddler’s room, in the dark, waiting for the deep breathing that signals I can make my escape, I imagine ornate bars above my head. They’re the network of parents through the centuries who’ve struggled to get their kids to sleep, through illness and war and countless horrendous things, whose strength I can tap into. I imagine reaching up and holding the bars, feeling them glow and knowing I’m one tiny person in this enormous world. It gives me an almost tangible perspective and comforts me.

It was while I was fitting a Houdini clip to KD’s carseat that the Wee Man escaped.

The neighbour rang the doorbell and returned my free-spirited six year old – not for the first time.

“Your side gate is open,” she explained, smiling sympathetically.

“How did he…” I trailed off, laughing because I was embarrassed, torn between admiration for the Wee Man’s skills and sheer exasperation.

He had pulled over his bike, climbed up on it and pulled back the latch.

I am beginning to resign myself to the fact I have two sons.

It’s taken me six years, but three smashed tellies, four indelibly marked walls and a stained carpet later I’m losing my fight for domestic bliss. I can no longer afford to replace expensive things in the vain hope that destruction was a one-off accident. I’m getting fed up cleaning for hours only for mud to be traipsed through the house, juice to be dropped and Hula Hoops to be joyously stamped on the minute they come home from school and nursery. I’ve tried for years to discipline them, ration them, deprive them, ban them – my house still gets trashed.

Don’t misunderstand, I am no pushover. We have a zero tolerance policy on bad behaviour, a zealously-enforced naughty step procedure and a highly effective cold shoulder when all the low-level naughtiness mounts and I silently lose my shit. I say silently because I have found, over the years, that shouting at them only escalates a bad situation. It makes them cry louder, slam more and generally prolongs the hell.

I’m adjusting. Places like the playroom get a cursory tidy and a weekly hoover. Rooms like my bedroom get a lock. The kitchen is a constant sweep-wipe-mop cycle and the bathrooms get a daily spray and wipe due to two little toilet-trained willies now misfiring. Nothing gets left lying that has the potential to cause mischief (knives, pens, expensive digital equipment) and any work bags get dropped in the dining room, not the hall, as it too has a lock. The garden, much as I would love to landscape it, is their domain. They can drop gravel on the grass, stamp PlayDoh into the patio and pull out the remains of the daffodils to their hearts’ content. Why? Because they’re outside, happy and exploring in a safe environment – thanks to our expensive but effective new fence – and that means a few minutes of peace for me.

The gap between the slats is exactly half the width of KD’s leg

One day I will live in a house with white sofas, plush carpets and a ladies-only bathroom full of expensive products that no one will squirt down the toilet. But until that day, I shall muddle along in my noisy, vibrant semi-detached – which may not stand up to Instagram standards, but which is full of laughter and love.

Getting out of my bed is hard when there is no coffee waiting. Breakfast is almost impossible if you’ve forgotten to soak your oats overnight. Lunchtime, when your kids have been fighting all morning, and there’s no food in the house except questionable Quorn which has eggs in it anyway, is just too much.

I scrambled some eggs. In butter. Then I put cheese on top.

I managed four and a half days of being vegan. My children are the reason I failed so early. My greed is the reason I didn’t get back onto that rickety wagon.

Tonight I ordered a plain cheese pizza. It was f***ing delicious.

Tomorrow’s dinner is this:

Oh the relief!

I felt bad for as long as it took to leave my lovely Mags of The Newbie Vegan a voicemail apologising – then I felt set free. Coffee! Cheese! A big ass steak! Nothing was beyond me now!

In all seriousness, I’ve actually learned a lot this week.

1 I eat too much crap for snacks when I genuinely love cucumber, carrot and celery sticks

2 Tofu is delicious stir-fried and much cheaper than meat (£2.50 per packet)

3 I drink too much coffee

4 I don’t drink enough water

5 I need to be more organised when it comes to food generally

6 As with most things in my life, being a working mum really constrains me. When mums say “I don’t have time”, they genuinely mean it. Neither can I pop to the supermarket to buy specialist ingredients because that involves taking two small rutting stags and shoehorning them into a trolley so they don’t run off while I search the shelves.

7 I need to be extra careful about where my food comes from. I already order my milk direct from a farm – it gets left on my doorstep at 5am – and I try to always buy Scottish meat.

8 I need to eat more fish and make less stuff with mince

So although I technically failed the Vegan Challenge (let’s just see how many of my goals I achieved here. Oh. One) I still think it was worthwhile.

Another morning coffee avoided. Another morning of weird breakfast because I forgot about my overnight oats. Dragging a reluctant six year old around Tesco trying to work out which aisle the bloody tins of chickpeas live in was a low point. But I’m hanging on in there.

I think, given my conversation with the farmer yesterday, the only reason I’m continuing with this challenge is for re-education purposes. I’ve gotten into bad habits and I want to reset. I’m enjoying eating lots of fruit and veg, particularly cucumber and carrot sticks, I’m feeling the benefit of not drinking coffee four times a day and I’m relishing the challenge of creating tasty evening meals using new ingredients. I mean, I had never bought tofu before this week.

Today I also bought quorn. I figured if I enjoyed my stir fry that much, I should just repeat that meal with other meat substitutes. These are the habits which are likely to stick. I cannot wait to use milk again and I am definitely going to bake myself a camembert when this challenge is over. Mmmmmmmm camembert…

Oh. I’ve just checked the label and Quorn contains egg whites. Crap.

Well, dinner was delicious. More stir fried tofu, this time with spring onions, beansprouts, carrots and courgettes.

I was skunnered this morning when Rod handed me a coffee, forgetting I was off the milk. I’d forgotten to soak my oats and was running around trying to get kids ready so ended up comforting myself with a trip to the local inconvenience store.

Yep, breakfast was two morning rolls dipped in olive oil and balsamic. Nutritious? I think not. I was racing to finish writing a press release before my nail appointment, so my snack was 20 Pringles. Not a good morning.

My fortnightly nail appointment is always a highlight. I travel halfway across Edinburgh to see this woman because she is excellent. She is also a character – obsessed with 195os style, owner of a gorgeous bulldog called Rose who smiles at me from her dog basket and, I found out today, she used to be the head bouncer at a notorious Glasgow nightclub called Archaos. She also grew up on a farm and spent five years at agricultural college, so I should have known better than to mention my vegan challenge.

Her rant lasted through the soak off and the first two coats of the new colour, but she made some excellent, and heartfelt points. The main one was: “The thought that farmers, whose livelihood depends on the animals they look after, don’t care and don’t look after their cows and pigs, is actually offensive. And I don’t use that term vey often cos people get too offended these days.”

She explained how strict the regulations are in the UK. There are actually laws about how much daylight, space and stimulation animals must have as a bare minimum. The picture of the sow separated from her piglets in a small pen that does the rounds on Facebook got her particularly riled up.

“Do you know how much a sow weighs? They’re twice the size of a coffee table and have about 20 piglets, if she rolls over she’s going to squash them and kill them. She goes in the farrowing pen for the piglets’ safety. They feed, they’re observed to make sure everyone gets enough, then the sow gets her own pen so she can move about safely – and can still snuffle her children through the barrier.”

Organic farming was another passionate subject for her – she derided the practice of depriving a cow who cuts itself on a fence from receiving antibiotics because lavender cream allows the farmer to claim organic status – meanwhile the cow suffers. She also pointed out the joy of UK farmers at leaving the EU because the regulations are ridiculously complex and actually prevent them from farming properly.

I won’t go on. She made some very interesting, and informed, points and given that I was still in mourning over my morning coffee, really struck a chord.

I was all set to give up on this challenge, but tofu turned my head. It’s delicious! Stir fried in soy sauce with a tonne of veg and some gluten free noodles? YUM.

I shall fight another day. Day 3 complete. And aren’t my nails gorgeous?

Today’s menu

Breakfast: Two morning rolls dipped in olive oil and Balsamic vinegar; pint of cucumber water

Next to this freezer of fun was a mouthwatering selection of cakes and the seductive aroma of coffee. Not only did I resist all these temptations, I bought four ice creams for four small children and didn’t lick a single one.

My peppermint tea was actually amazing – so flavourful – and I experienced a small moment of smugness as I realised the level of willpower I had just displayed. For naturally, as soon as I was away from the dairy goodness and outside in the fresh air, I no longer craved it.

Two very good things happened today, foodwise. One, I realised I could eat the bag of Walkers Ready Salted offered to me after my vegetable soup, but the other was a game changer at the end of a very tiring day with my two darling, but temporarily possessed, sons.

Now, I realise one of my goals this week was to avoid alcohol, but in my defence, I did. I avoided the Freixenet Rose my lovely mum had brought me at the weekend, because Mr Barnivore (see above) informed me they use “fining matters of animal origin”. As I was having the internal dialogue of whether this counts, I spotted the Corona bottles and saved myself the moral dilemma. In for a penny, in for a pound.

It’s 8pm and I am a little bit hungry – but I think I’ll have a banana and be fine. I’m quite chuffed with myself for not falling off the wagon yet. Or going to Starbucks for a caramel machiatto and a cinnamon swirl. It’s the challenge that keeps on giving…

Today’s menu:

Breakfast: overnight oats with almond milk and half a tin of peaches; water (I had a headache)

Snack: Carrot and cucumber sticks in the car en route to our day out

Lunch: Homemade vegetable soup (totally delicious, I surprise myself sometimes), half a packet of Walkers Ready salted (the other half was stolen by a small child), water

Snack: Peppermint tea, walnuts, raisins, banana

Dinner: Lentil and vegetable bake – made with passata, sweet potato, onion, celery, red pepper, carrots and peas (for colour, it was so orange.); a pint of Ribena.

Today was going swimmingly until I caught sight of a packet of Haribo in the cupboard and realised it was off the menu.

Other disappointments included coffee made with almond milk (I mean really, vom) and grating cheese onto my son’s baked potato with beans while personally abstaining. But other than that – it was honestly no big deal. I had a wee bit of a headache today, but perhaps my ponytail was too tight or the wind on the mountain hurt my ears.

Yeah, we climbed a mountain today, my six year old son and I. We took a football with us. I wouldn’t recommend doing that. A mis-aimed kick on the ridge meant the ball disappeared and only a lunge from me stopped my child from following suit. He then threw an epic tantrum about finishing the climb, forcing me to put him on my shoulders in order to make the summit. There is a metaphor there for our relationship… Many Americans high-fived me and one lady offered her dog’s lead to tempt the Wee Man to climb up on his own, but no. Thighs burning, we reached the top of Arthur’s Seat and tucked into an Alpro plant-based dessert. I’d forgotten spoons, so we basically slurped it then I had to carry an open pot back down the track.

I mention this urban mountaineering only to illustrate that I did not faint from hunger nor suffer prolonged fatigue – in fact, I wasn’t hungry at all today. Not even after an hour of football in the park. I’m trying to figure out how I feel. Not really any different, to be honest. If anything it’s the lack of feeling that’s remarkable – no “crap I wish I hadn’t eaten that”, no full feeling, no pleasant tipsiness coupled with guilt that I’m potentially becoming an alcoholic. In fact, it’s quite a nice simple feeling. I gave my body what it needed today. I drank loads of water, ate loads of fruit and veg and that’s all there is to it. Hmmm.